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        <p><a href="https://www.caiyunai.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">安装彩云小译浏览器插件</a></p>
<h2 id="Chapter1"><a href="#Chapter1" class="headerlink" title="Chapter1"></a>Chapter1</h2><p>Mamá Coco is the only person who truly understands Miguel.</p>
<p>That’s why he loves spending time with her.</p>
<p>“Hola (你好), Mamá Coco,” he says as he steps into his great-grandmother’s room.</p>
<p>She’s in a wicker wheelchair with her shawl and furry slippers.</p>
<p>Her skin is as wrinkled as a wadded paper bag and her face is framed by two white braids.</p>
<p>“How are you, Julio?” she says.</p>
<p>Mamá Coco is very old, and sometimes she gets confused.</p>
<p>“Actually, my name is Miguel.”</p>
<p>He leans forward so she can get a good look at him.</p>
<p>She lost her teeth long ago, but that doesn’t stop her from smiling.</p>
<p>“Heh, heh,” she chuckles as she reaches for his cheeks.</p>
<p>Miguel tells her everything — how he likes to run with his hands open and palms flat because it’s faster;</p>
<p>how he has a dimple on one side of his face but not on the other; who his favorite luchador (摔跤手) is.</p>
<p>Mamá Coco nods and smiles, while the scraggly cat at the window yawns and stretches.</p>
<p>When he runs out of things to say, Miguel starts humming absentmindedly as he straightens things around the room.</p>
<p>He catches Mamá Coco’s foot moving, but he can’t tell if she’s trying to tap the rhythm or scratching an itch on her heel.</p>
<p>Without realizing it, Miguel stops humming and starts to sing out loud.</p>
<p>He can’t help it.The music just takes over.</p>
<p>He’s about to hit a high note when his Abuelita (外祖母) storms in.</p>
<p>“How many times do I have to tell you?” she says, pointing at him.</p>
<p>“No music!”</p>
<p>She startles the cat at the window, and it runs off.</p>
<p>She startles Mamá Coco and Miguel, too.</p>
<p>Noticing this, Abuelita softens a bit and comes over to give Mamá Coco, her mother, a kiss on the forehead.</p>
<p>“Sorry I yelled,” she says, and turning to Miguel, she adds, “but you know the rule — no music.”</p>
<p>Miguel does know the rule.</p>
<p>He’s reminded every day.</p>
<p>Once he blew into a glass soda bottle, and when Abuelita (外祖母) heard the whistle, she snatched the bottle away.</p>
<p>Another time Miguel rushed to the window when he heard a truck with its radio blaring, but before he could catch the tune, Abuelita angrily slammed the window shut.</p>
<p>A few nights before, a trio of gentlemen had serenaded as they strolled by the family hacienda, and instead of letting them fill the air with beautiful songs, Abuelita burst out the door and chased them off.</p>
<p>“No music!” she’d shouted after them.</p>
<p>pic<br>And here she is again, telling him about the ban on music.</p>
<p>“I know the rule,” Miguel says, “but—”</p>
<p>Abuelita (外祖母) shushes him.</p>
<p>Then she sits on the edge of Mamá Coco’s bed and pats the space beside her so Miguel can sit, too.</p>
<p>“Let me tell you why we have this rule,” she begins.</p>
<p>Miguel sighs. He’s heard the story a million times.</p>
<p>He can recite it by memory, and he says the words in his mind as Abuelita speaks.</p>
<p>“A long time ago, there was a family.</p>
<p>“A mamá, a papá, and their little girl.</p>
<p>“The man, he was a musician.</p>
<p>“He loved to play the guitar while his wife and daughter danced.</p>
<p>“Every day, he and his wife would sing, dance, and count their blessings.”</p>
<p>Abuelita (外祖母) pauses and takes a deep breath before going on.</p>
<p>“But this man had a dream.</p>
<p>“He wanted to play his music for the world.</p>
<p>“And one day, that man left with his guitar . . . and never returned.”</p>
<p>She shakes her head with shame, and her voice hardens a bit.</p>
<p>“Now imagine a man holding a guitar and walking away as his poor wife and child stand in the doorway and watch.</p>
<p>“But do you think that woman wasted one tear on that walk-away musician? No! ”</p>
<p>Miguel decides to finish the story.</p>
<p>“She banished all music from her life because she had a daughter to provide for,” he says, and Abuelita (外祖母) nods.</p>
<p>“So she rolled up her sleeves and she learned to make shoes.</p>
<p>“Then she taught her daughter to make shoes.</p>
<p>“And later, she taught her son-in-law.</p>
<p>“Then her grandkids got roped in.</p>
<p>“As the business grew, so did her family.”</p>
<p>Abuelita puts a hand on Miguel’s shoulder.</p>
<p>“And who was that woman?”</p>
<p>“My great-great-grandmother, Mamá Imelda.”</p>
<p>“And the little girl?”</p>
<p>“Mamá Coco,” Miguel answers, glancing at his great grandmother as she sits in the wheelchair, nearly asleep.</p>
<h2 id="Chapter2"><a href="#Chapter2" class="headerlink" title="Chapter2"></a>Chapter2</h2><p>Abuelita (外祖母) gets up and adjusts the shawl on Mamá Coco’s shoulders.</p>
<p>She beckons Miguel to follow her, and they tiptoe out, making their way to the ofrenda (灵坛) room.</p>
<p>It’s set up as a memorial to their ancestors, with an altar decorated with embroidered cloth, flowers, and candles illuminating portraits of relatives who have passed away.</p>
<p>In the flickering light, the portraits seem to move as if the ancestors were still alive.</p>
<p>Abuelita (外祖母) lovingly adjusts a sepia-tinted photo of Mamá Imelda with baby Coco on her lap.</p>
<p>A man stands beside her, but his face has been torn away.</p>
<p>The only clue that this is the mysterious musician is a charro (骑手) jacket with fancy trim, the kind that mariachis (墨西哥流浪歌手) love to wear.</p>
<p>“Come along,” Abuelita says, and she leads Miguel across the courtyard to the shoemaking shop.</p>
<p>Cabinets along the walls hold trays of buckles, shoelaces, brackets, threads, and chisels.</p>
<p>Half-finished shoes hang from clotheslines, and different-sized mallets are thrown about.</p>
<p>The floor is scuffed from so many years of the Rivera family hard at work.</p>
<p>Even now, they are busy making shoes.</p>
<p>pic<br>Miguel’s papá and tía (阿姨) Gloria use rivet guns to make eyelets for shoelaces.</p>
<p>His mother and grandfather run fabric through sewing machines.</p>
<p>Tío (叔叔) Berto carves into leather with a swivel knife, and Tía (阿姨) Carmen traces patterns on a cutting board.</p>
<p>It’s very noisy in the shop, but the tapping, punching, and sewing sound nothing like music to Miguel.</p>
<p>Abuelita waves her hand across the room as if showing Miguel a grand kingdom.</p>
<p>“Music tore our family apart, but shoes have held it together.”</p>
<p>Then she giggles to herself.</p>
<p>“In fact,” she says, “I captured the heart of your grandfather when he realized that I made the most beautiful and comfortable cowboy boots in all of Mexico.”</p>
<p>“I never got blisters,” Papá Franco says.</p>
<p>“No one gets blisters when they wear my shoes,” Abuelita (外祖母) proudly announces.</p>
<p>“Okay, okay,” Miguel says.</p>
<p>“Shoes. I get it.”</p>
<p>He slips a red hoodie over his tank top, grabs a shoeshine box, and heads for the door.</p>
<p>“Why don’t I make myself useful and go shine some boots in town?”</p>
<p>“Be back by lunch, m’ijo (孩子) ,” his mamá says.</p>
<p>“And don’t forget to use the brush on suede and the cloth on leather,” Abuelita reminds him.</p>
<p>“Got it!” Miguel says, rushing to shine shoes like a proper Rivera boy.</p>
<p>But, and this is the part he’s left out, he plans to shine shoes near the musicians in Mariachi Plaza!</p>
<p>On his way to the plaza, Miguel says hello to a woman who is whistling as she sweeps her stoop.</p>
<p>Then he passes a lone guitarist playing a classical piece with lots of tremolo (颤音) .</p>
<p>Miguel nods with appreciation, and the man nods back.</p>
<p>The closer Miguel gets to the plaza, the more music he hears and the happier he feels.</p>
<p>Young girls sing while jumping rope, the slap on the sidewalk setting the tempo for their song.</p>
<p>The church bells chime in harmony with a tune played by a street band, and when a radio blares a cumbia (坤比亚舞) rhythm, Miguel does a few crossover steps to the beat.</p>
<p>He’s humming when he reaches a pan dulce (墨西哥甜点) booth and grabs his favorite type of sweet bread, the cochinito (小猪) , a gingerbread cookie shaped like a pig.</p>
<p>“Muchas gracias (非常感谢) !” Miguel says as he tosses the vendor a coin.</p>
<p>“De nada (不客气) , Miguel!”</p>
<p>As he walks along, he feels something at his leg, and when he looks down, he sees the scraggly cat from Mamá Coco’s window.</p>
<p>It scurries off, then glances back to see if Miguel is following.</p>
<p>Where does that cat want me to go? he wonders.</p>
<p>He shrugs and moves on to a street vendor at a booth full of alebrijes (墨西哥手工艺品) , colorful sculptures of fantastical creatures, like lizards with feathers, rabbits with horns, and giraffes with multicolored spots.</p>
<p>Miguel stops a moment, tapping a rhythm on the table.</p>
<p>He’s about to take a bite of pan dulce when a familiar street dog sidles up.</p>
<p>The dog is nearly bald, with a few hairs sticking out here and there like thorns on a nopal (仙人掌) .</p>
<p>He goofily licks his chops because he’s hungry.</p>
<p>Miguel breaks off the rump of the cochinito (小猪) and holds it over the dog’s nose.</p>
<p>“Want some of this?” he asks, laughing.</p>
<p>“Roo, roo!” the dog answers.</p>
<p>Miguel goes through the commands he has taught the dog.</p>
<p>“Sit, roll over, shake.”</p>
<p>The dog performs each trick perfectly.</p>
<p>Miguel finishes with his favorite, “Fist bump,” and he laughs as the dog laps his long tongue against his closed hand.</p>
<p>“Good boy, Dante!”</p>
<p>Miguel drops the pan dulce, and Dante gobbles it up.</p>
<h2 id="Chapter3"><a href="#Chapter3" class="headerlink" title="Chapter3"></a>Chapter3</h2><p>There’s a sense of celebration in the air because it’s the eve of Día de los Muertos (亡灵节) , the Day of the Dead, when the community honors loved ones who have passed away.</p>
<p>The streets are lined with strings of papel picado (墨西哥剪纸) , squares of paper with punched-out designs, brightening the space with their pinks, greens, golds, and blues.</p>
<p>Children reach for decorated sugar skulls.</p>
<p>Some of the elderly, viejitos (老爷爷) and viejitas (老奶奶) , carry candles and vases filled with marigolds and mums for their ofrendas (灵坛) , while others rush to buy soda, candy, fruit, cigars, or toys to leave at the gravesites.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Miguel quickly makes his way to Mariachi Plaza with Dante at his side.</p>
<p>They finally reach their destination, and the plaza lives up to its name, for it is crowded with musicians.</p>
<p>They’re so lucky, thinks Miguel, to play guitars and trumpets without getting scolded.</p>
<p>“I know I’m not supposed to like music,” Miguel tells Dante, “but it’s not my fault!”</p>
<p>Miguel looks up and gazes at a statue of a handsome mariachi (墨西哥流浪歌手) .</p>
<p>“It’s his: Ernesto de la Cruz, the greatest musician of all time.”</p>
<p>At the base of the statue is a plaque with the musician’s most famous quote—SEIZE YOUR MOMENT.</p>
<p>Just then a tour group makes its way to the statue, and Miguel eavesdrops as the tour guide tells them about the famous musician.</p>
<p>“And right here in this very plaza,” the tour guide says, “the young Ernesto de la Cruz took his first steps toward becoming the most beloved singer in Mexican history.”</p>
<p>As the guide speaks, Miguel imagines de la Cruz in his heyday, a young man in the plaza, swarmed by fans as he played his songs.</p>
<p>He glances down at Dante and pets him.</p>
<p>“De la Cruz,” Miguel says, “he was just . . . he was the guy, you know?</p>
<p>“He started out a total nobody from Santa Cecilia, like me.</p>
<p>“But when he played music, he made people fall in love with him.”</p>
<p>Dante wags his tail.</p>
<p>Miguel’s told this story a dozen times, and Dante always seems happy to hear it.</p>
<p>“He traveled the world,” Miguel goes on.</p>
<p>“He starred in movies.</p>
<p>pic<br>“Oh, plus he had the coolest guitar.</p>
<p>“And he wrote the best songs!</p>
<p>“But my all-time favorite? It’s—”</p>
<p>Miguel closes his eyes and recalls an old clip of de la Cruz performing in a fancy nightclub.</p>
<p>He can clearly hear de la Cruz’s voice singing his most famous song, “Remember Me.”</p>
<p>It’s a song about being remembered forever—even after one is gone.</p>
<p>And it has a very catchy tune.</p>
<p>Miguel hums along with the memory.</p>
<p>Then he looks up at the statue of Ernesto de la Cruz, awestruck by his greatness.</p>
<p>“He lived the kind of life you dream about,” he continues, “until 1942 . . .”</p>
<p>He can’t finish the sentence, because it breaks his heart to repeat what happened, but then he hears Dante panting and sees the goofy dog waiting for the end of the story.</p>
<p>“Until 1942, when he was crushed by a giant bell.”</p>
<p>Dante barks as if to say “the end.”</p>
<p>Then he runs off, and Miguel remembers why he’s in the plaza.</p>
<p>He’s supposed to shine shoes, so he finds a spot near the statue and takes out his shoeshine kit, using the box as a footstool for his customers.</p>
<p>A few minutes later, a mariachi asks for a shoeshine and Miguel gets to work, the whole time repeating the tale of Ernesto de la Cruz.</p>
<p>“Sometimes, I look at de la Cruz,” he says, “and I get this feeling . . . like we’re connected somehow.</p>
<p>“Like, if he could play music, maybe someday I could, too.”</p>
<p>Then, in a voice full of sadness, he continues, “If only it wasn’t for my family.”</p>
<p>“Ay yai yai, muchacho (小男孩) !” the mariachi exclaims.</p>
<p>“Huh?” Miguel says, confused, because for a moment, he’s forgotten where he is.</p>
<p>“I asked for a shoeshine, not your life story,” the mariachi says.</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”</p>
<p>Miguel goes back to buffing the man’s shoe.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, the mariachi plucks at his guitar strings.</p>
<p>“I just can’t talk about any of this at home,” Miguel explains.</p>
<p>“Look,” the mariachi says, “if I were you?</p>
<p>“I’d march right up to my family and say, ‘Hey! I’m a musician. Deal with it.’ ”</p>
<p>Miguel shakes his head. “I could never say that.”</p>
<p>“You are a musician, no?”</p>
<p>Miguel desperately wants to say yes, but then he remembers his family’s past, how music tore them apart.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” he admits.</p>
<p>“I mean . . . I only really play for myself—”</p>
<p>“Aah!” The mariachi seems frustrated by Miguel’s lack of confidence.</p>
<p>“Did de la Cruz become the world’s best musician by hiding his sweet, sweet skills?”</p>
<p>He doesn’t let Miguel answer.</p>
<p>“No!” the mariachi says, thumping his guitar for emphasis.</p>
<p>“He walked out onto that plaza and he played out loud!”</p>
<p>He points to the gazebo, where some men are setting up speakers and hanging a giant poster announcing a talent show.</p>
<p>“Ah! Mira, mira (看)! They’re setting up for tonight.</p>
<p>“The music competition for Día de los Muertos (亡灵节).</p>
<p>“You wanna be like your hero? You should sign up!”</p>
<p>Instead of excited, Miguel is shocked at the thought.</p>
<p>“Huh-uh, my family would freak!”</p>
<h2 id="Chapter4"><a href="#Chapter4" class="headerlink" title="Chapter4"></a>Chapter4</h2><p>“Look, if you’re too scared, then, well . . . have fun making shoes.”</p>
<p>The mariachi (墨西哥流浪歌手) does a quick rasgueado (拨弦) on the guitar, and Miguel admires the way his fingers flutter over the strings.</p>
<p>“But the world belongs to the bold, m’ijo (孩子) .”</p>
<p>Miguel silently mouths the words as he considers this.</p>
<p>“C’mon (来吧) ,” the mariachi urges.</p>
<p>“What did de la Cruz always say?”</p>
<p>“Seize your moment?” Miguel phrases it as a question even though he knows the answer by heart.</p>
<p>The mariachi nods.</p>
<p>Then he offers the guitar to Miguel.</p>
<p>“Show me what you got, muchacho (小男孩) .</p>
<p>“I’ll be your first audience.”</p>
<p>Miguel’s eyes widen and his brows rise with surprise at this gesture.</p>
<p>He aches to hold the guitar, but then he hears Abuelita (外祖母) proclaiming the family rule—No music allowed!</p>
<p>Every time he dares to play something, her warning echoes in his head.</p>
<p>But how can he resist a chance to touch a beautiful guitar?</p>
<p>He glances around to make sure the coast is clear.</p>
<p>Then he reaches for the instrument and takes it with reverence, as if holding a holy relic.</p>
<p>Once it’s in his arms, Miguel presses the strings and is about to strum a C chord when he hears: “Miguel!”</p>
<p>It’s Abuelita’s voice, and he laughs at himself.</p>
<p>I must be paranoid, he thinks.</p>
<p>But then he hears her voice again, this time much closer.</p>
<p>He gasps and tosses the guitar back to the mariachi, but it’s too late.</p>
<p>Abuelita, Tío (叔叔) Berto, and Prima (堂妹) Rosa, Miguel’s cousin, have found them.</p>
<p>They march straight over, their arms full of bags and supplies.</p>
<p>“Abuelita!” Miguel says.</p>
<p>“What are you doing here?” she asks.</p>
<p>“Um . . . uh . . .” Miguel quickly packs up his shoeshine equipment, hoping his grandmother ignores the mariachi.</p>
<p>But she doesn’t. She grabs a chancla (拖鞋) from her purse.</p>
<p>Many years ago, the strap on the sandal fell off, but since Abuelita (外祖母) hates to throw out shoes, no matter how tattered, she keeps it as a flyswatter.</p>
<p>Apparently, it’s a mariachi swatter, too, because she barrels up to the man, hits him with the shoe, and waves him away just like she does with the flies.</p>
<p>“You leave my grandson alone!” she shouts.</p>
<p>“Doña (太太) , please. I was just getting a shine!”</p>
<p>“I know your tricks, mariachi!”</p>
<p>Then, turning to Miguel, she demands, “What did he say to you?”</p>
<p>Miguel shrugs. “He was just showing me his guitar.”</p>
<p>Abuelita gasps, Prima (堂妹) Rosa gasps, and Tío (叔叔) Berto gasps, too.</p>
<p>“Shame on you!” the uncle says to the mariachi.</p>
<p>Abuelita approaches the musician, chancla (拖鞋) aimed directly between his eyes.</p>
<p>“My grandson,” she says, “is a sweet little angelito (小天使) querido (亲爱的) cielito (天使) .</p>
<p>“He wants no part of your music, mariachi (墨西哥流浪歌手)!</p>
<p>“You keep away from him!”</p>
<p>She is a formidable woman, so the mariachi grabs his sombrero and scrambles away.</p>
<p>Miguel can only watch with unspoken apologies and a heavy heart.</p>
<p>There goes a man who let him talk about music without feeling ashamed.</p>
<p>“Ay, pobrecito! (可怜的小家伙) ” Abuelita says, hugging Miguel so tight he can barely breathe.</p>
<p>“Estás bien (你还好吗), m’ijo (孩子) ?” When she releases him, he gasps for air.</p>
<p>“You know better than to be in this place!</p>
<p>“You will come home. Now.”</p>
<p>Miguel sighs, and as he picks up his shoeshine box, he notices a sheet of paper.</p>
<p>It’s a flyer for the talent show—the one the mariachi told him about!</p>
<p>Quickly, before Abuelita (外祖母) turns around, he pockets the flyer.</p>
<p>As they walk through the plaza, Abuelita can’t stop commenting on everyone’s shoes.</p>
<p>When she sees Señor (先生) Maldonado, she says, “Now there is an admirable man.</p>
<p>“See how the patent leather of his loafers gleams in the sun?”</p>
<p>When she sees Señora (女士) Diaz, she says, “I dyed those satin pumps myself, and look how they’re fading.”</p>
<p>And to the señora (女士), she calls out, “Don’t store your shoes by the window!</p>
<p>“They’re supposed to be red but now they’re turning pink from all that sun.”</p>
<p>Señora (女士) Diaz gives her a thumbs-up and hurries away.</p>
<p>And then Rosa spots a small boy and points at him.</p>
<p>“Look, Abuelita!”</p>
<p>Abuelita gasps. “His shoelaces!”</p>
<p>Sure enough, the laces on the boy’s tennis shoes are frayed and too short to be tied into a proper knot.</p>
<p>“Not his shoes,” Rosa says. “He’s crying!”</p>
<p>“Of course he’s crying.</p>
<p>“I would cry, too, if my shoelaces looked like that.”</p>
<p>Abuelita (外祖母) stoops down to examine them.</p>
<p>“What happened here?” she asks the boy, but instead of explaining what happened to his shoes, he says, “I’m lost.”</p>
<p>Abuelita snaps to get Tío (叔叔) Berto’s attention.</p>
<p>“Go find his parents,” she orders.</p>
<p>“Yes, yes, right away,” Tío (叔叔) Berto says as he obediently rushes off.</p>
<p>“We’ll find your parents,” Abuelita tells the boy.</p>
<p>“In the meantime, you can’t go around with frayed laces.</p>
<p>“Lucky for you, I have extras in my purse.”</p>
<p>She pulls out three pairs of shoelaces, and the boy’s eyes widen with delight.</p>
<p>“Which color do you want?” she asks, and he studies them as if choosing the right color is the most important decision of his life.</p>
<h2 id="Chapter5"><a href="#Chapter5" class="headerlink" title="Chapter5"></a>Chapter5</h2><p>While Abuelita (外祖母) is busy with the boy, Miguel spots a paper airplane.</p>
<p>It’s crumpled from being stepped on.</p>
<p>Thinking he can smooth out the crumpled parts and give it to the boy, Miguel picks it up, but he only half-heartedly unfolds it because he can’t stop thinking about music.</p>
<p>He really wants to perform.</p>
<p>Except for Dante and Mamá Coco, no one’s ever heard him sing.</p>
<p>They don’t want to hear him sing, because it’s against the family rules.</p>
<p>But what if he won the talent show?</p>
<p>Maybe . . . just maybe they would accept him as a real musician.</p>
<p>He sighs, heavyhearted.</p>
<p>Then he refolds the paper, making it a plane again, and throws it into the air.</p>
<p>As it glides away, he thinks about his dreams.</p>
<p>Will they glide away, too?</p>
<p>He’s about to return to Abuelita (外祖母) when he hears clacking from around the corner.</p>
<p>He sneaks over to investigate, Rosa following.</p>
<p>When they reach the sound, they find a group of ballet folklórico (民间) dancers.</p>
<p>“They’re so pretty,” Rosa says, admiring the full skirts with colorful petticoats and the hairstyles with ribbons and braids.</p>
<p>The dancers are warming up for a performance, their toes and heels clacking on the sidewalk.</p>
<p>“And they have the prettiest shoes,” Rosa adds wistfully.</p>
<p>It’s true. The shoes are very pretty, but Miguel is most interested in the metal plates on the heels and toes, because that is what makes the pleasant sound.</p>
<p>He lifts a foot, examines the soles of his boots, and wonders if he could add his own metal plates.</p>
<p>He’s not allowed to play instruments, but maybe he could tap out rhythms with his feet.</p>
<p>“What are you doing?” Abuelita says, hands on hips.</p>
<p>Miguel lowers his foot. “We’re just listening . . . I mean, looking at the dancers’ beautiful shoes.”</p>
<p>Abuelita (外祖母) has a skeptical expression on her face, but she lets it go.</p>
<p>As they walk away, Miguel asks, “Abuelita, why don’t we make those kinds of shoes, for the ballet folklórico (民间) dancers?”</p>
<p>When she doesn’t answer, he asks again — and again.</p>
<p>“We just don’t!” she says, and he knows better than to keep asking why.</p>
<p>Many years ago, fifteen-year-old Coco hurried to the family’s workshop with instructions from her mother to pick up five pairs of shoes and deliver them to the dancers in town.</p>
<p>When she entered the shop, she found her uncles, Tío (叔叔) Oscar and Tío Felipe, side by side at their stations.</p>
<p>They were identical twins, both wearing fedoras, long aprons, and striped shirts with the sleeves rolled up.</p>
<p>Coco marveled at how their movements were perfectly matched as they pulled on needles with long lengths of thread.</p>
<p>“Hola (你好) , Coco,” they said.</p>
<p>“What are you working on?” she asked.</p>
<p>“We’re sewing tongues,” Tío (叔叔) Oscar replied, and when he saw her surprise, he said, “Tongues for shoes, not the tongues you speak with.”</p>
<p>“Or lick with,” Tío Felipe added.</p>
<p>“Or whistle with.”</p>
<p>“Or stick out when you’re mad at your mamá Imelda.”</p>
<p>Coco laughed. That was how her uncles talked, one after the other, and Coco had to pivot her head back and forth as she tried to keep up.</p>
<p>“Ay, tíos (叔叔们) ,” she cried. “You’re going to give me a headache!”</p>
<p>“Perdóname (我很抱歉) ,” both uncles said, and they immediately got back to sewing, pulling their needles in unison again.</p>
<p>Coco hated to interrupt them, but she needed to pick up the shoes.</p>
<p>“Are the dancing shoes ready?</p>
<p>“Mamá said you made five pairs.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Tío (叔叔) Felipe said.</p>
<p>“One of us made three pairs—”</p>
<p>“And the other made two,” finished Tío Oscar.</p>
<p>Coco followed them to the far corner of the shop, where they brought down two boxes from a shelf.</p>
<p>As they pulled out shoes, they counted.</p>
<p>“One, two . . .” said Tío Oscar.</p>
<p>“Three, four . . .” said Tío Felipe.</p>
<p>And together, they said, “Five.”</p>
<p>They left the shoes in a pile and returned to their workstations.</p>
<p>Coco wrapped each pair in tissue paper and carefully placed them in a basket so she could carry them to town.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, her uncles were stroking their pencil-thin mustaches as they tried to solve a riddle.</p>
<p>“Which needle is mine?” Tío Felipe said.</p>
<p>“And which is mine?” asked Tío Oscar.</p>
<p>“Well, I was using black thread.”</p>
<p>“So was I. Perhaps we should measure.”</p>
<p>They grabbed a measuring tape.</p>
<p>“Same length!” they exclaimed.</p>
<p>“Mira (看) , hermano (哥哥/弟弟) ,” Tío (叔叔) Oscar said, “no offense, but I prefer to use my own needle.” “As do I.”</p>
<p>Coco knew this discussion would last all day, so she marched over, picked up the needles, and handed them out.</p>
<p>“This one is yours and this one is yours,” she said.</p>
<p>“How can you tell?” they asked.</p>
<p>“Because they’re clearly different.”</p>
<p>The uncles examined the needles, doubtful expressions on their faces.</p>
<p>“They are?”“Yes!” Coco said, and pointing to each of her uncles, she continued, “As different as you and you!”</p>
<p>“Well, that makes perfect sense,” Tío Oscar replied.</p>
<p>“It most certainly does,” agreed Tío Felipe.</p>
<p>“We’re as different as boots and sandals.”</p>
<p>“As buckles and laces.”</p>
<p>“As heels and flats.”“As . . .”</p>
<h2 id="Chapter6"><a href="#Chapter6" class="headerlink" title="Chapter6"></a>Chapter6</h2><p>Coco grabbed her basket of shoes and rushed out before she got another headache.</p>
<p>She loved her uncles, but they sure knew how to confuse her sometimes.</p>
<p>Coco enjoyed the bright sunshine as she headed to the dance studio.</p>
<p>It was a quiet walk, and she heard only her steps and the rustle of her skirt.</p>
<p>But once she reached the center of town, more sounds layered in—children laughing on the playground, vendors calling out their wares, and dogs barking for treats.</p>
<p>She crossed the plaza, turned a corner, and found the studio.</p>
<p>“Anybody here?” she called, because it was empty when she stepped in.</p>
<p>“We’re in the back,” someone answered.</p>
<p>She followed the voice to a dressing room, where a seamstress was taking measurements of the girls.</p>
<p>When they saw Coco, they clapped in delight, because her family had already earned a reputation for making excellent shoes.</p>
<p>As soon as she set down the basket, the girls rushed to it, unwrapped the shoes, and tried them on.</p>
<p>Then one of the girls ran to the studio and started skipping around, a simple version of the polka.</p>
<p>Soon all five girls joined her, their footsteps rhythmically clacking and echoing one another.</p>
<p>There wasn’t a single instrument in the room, yet it seemed filled with music.</p>
<p>Watching them reminded Coco of a time when she used to dance, too.</p>
<p>She had been very young when her father left, so she couldn’t remember his face very well, but she could remember his voice and the joy she had felt as she’d danced with her mother whenever he’d played the guitar and sung.</p>
<p>“Look!” the dance teacher said, disrupting Coco’s memory.</p>
<p>“Here’s an extra pair of shoes.”</p>
<p>Coco peeked into the basket and realized her uncles’ mistake.</p>
<p>Each had made three pairs, so instead of five, there were six pairs of shoes.</p>
<p>Coco laughed to herself.</p>
<p>Leave it to them to copy each other exactly.</p>
<p>For a moment, she thought about giving the extra shoes to the dancers in case another girl joined their group, but then she had a better idea.</p>
<p>She would keep them for herself!</p>
<p>She finished the transaction, rushed home, and went behind the family compound to try the shoes.</p>
<p>They fit perfectly! She did a little hop, then another and another.</p>
<p>On the hard-packed dirt, her steps landed with a soft thud.</p>
<p>She tiptoed to the paved patio, stepped onto the bricks, and heard the pleasant clicking of her shoes.</p>
<p>She did a toe tap, cautiously, as if testing the temperature of a pool before jumping in.</p>
<p>Then she glanced about.</p>
<p>No one was around, so she decided it was safe to dance.</p>
<p>Her first steps were a bit awkward because she hadn’t danced in such a long time, but she was a natural.</p>
<p>She felt rhythm in her blood.</p>
<p>She didn’t need musicians to sing, because she had the memory of her father’s voice.</p>
<p>She closed her eyes and the dancing took her back to the happiest memories of her early childhood.</p>
<p>Soon she was flicking her feet, striking the ground with her toes and heels, and twirling her skirt.</p>
<p>Her steps were getting faster, more rhythmic, and louder.</p>
<p>Her footsteps echoed off the walls, and Coco imagined a dozen dancers celebrating beside her!</p>
<p>Then she heard someone’s voice: “Ahem!”</p>
<p>Coco froze and opened her eyes.</p>
<p>There stood Mamá Imelda, clearing her throat to get Coco’s attention.</p>
<p>She cradled a kitten and absently scratched behind its ears, making the little cat purr.</p>
<p>Coco wondered how her mother’s arms could be so tender when her eyes could be so stern.</p>
<p>“Um . . . uh . . . hola (你好) , Mamá.”</p>
<p>“I thought I told you to deliver those shoes.”</p>
<p>“I did,” Coco said, “but there was an extra pair, so I thought . . . well, I wanted . . . and . . .”</p>
<p>Her mother raised an eyebrow, questioning, and Coco hung her head, ashamed.</p>
<p>Then Mamá Imelda set down the kitten, approached her daughter, and lifted Coco’s chin.</p>
<p>This time her eyes were as gentle as her hands.</p>
<p>“M’ija (亲爱的) ,” she said, “look around.”</p>
<p>Mamá Imelda stood back and looked at the hacienda with appreciation.</p>
<p>“We have a comfortable home, delicious food, and warm clothes, but more importantly, we have each other, and all because we know the difference between good, honest work and . . . careless indulgences.”</p>
<p>Coco nodded. “I understand, but—”</p>
<p>“It’s very simple,” Mamá Imelda interrupted.</p>
<p>“Music tore our family apart, but shoes have kept us together.”</p>
<p>She straightened Coco’s braids.</p>
<p>“From now on,” she said, “the dancers can order from someone else.</p>
<p>“These shoes bring too many sad memories, and some things are better to forget.”</p>
<p>Then she headed to the workshop, the kitten following close behind.</p>
<p>Disheartened, Coco headed to her room to take off the shoes.</p>
<p>They still clicked as she stepped on the pavement, but instead of music, the clicks sounded like someone hammering shut her joy.</p>
<h2 id="Chapter7"><a href="#Chapter7" class="headerlink" title="Chapter7"></a>Chapter7</h2><p>Miguel trudges along with his family.</p>
<p>He’s carrying his shoeshine box and an armful of marigolds.</p>
<p>He’s still getting lectured, even though they’re halfway home now.</p>
<p>“How many times have we told you?” Tío (叔叔) Berto says.</p>
<p>“That place is crawling with mariachis (墨西哥流浪歌手) !”</p>
<p>“Yes, Tío Berto.”</p>
<p>Prima (堂妹) Rosa gives him a sympathetic look, but she doesn’t jump to his defense.</p>
<p>Miguel can’t blame her. If she takes his side, she’ll get in trouble, too.</p>
<p>Then Dante ambles up, sniffs the bags Miguel’s relatives are carrying, and whines for treats.</p>
<p>“No, no, no, no, no,” Miguel says to the hairless dog, because he knows what’s going to happen next—and sure enough, it does.</p>
<p>“Go away, you! Go!” Abuelita (外祖母) says, throwing the chancla (拖鞋) at Dante.</p>
<p>It works. The frightened dog runs off.</p>
<p>“It’s just Dante,” Miguel explains.</p>
<p>“Never name a street dog,” Abuelita warns.</p>
<p>“It’ll follow you forever. Now, go get my shoe!”</p>
<p>Miguel stoops to pick it up.</p>
<p>It’s tricky since he’s holding so many things, but he manages to grab the shoe and secure it under his arm.</p>
<p>His family has finally stopped scolding him, but Miguel knows it won’t last.</p>
<p>Lectures usually aren’t over until everyone has chimed in, and with a family as big as his, that’s a lot of people.</p>
<p>Then he spots another talent show flyer, this one nailed to a post.</p>
<p>His family is walking ahead, their backs to him.</p>
<p>He can hear their voices talking about Día de los Muertos (亡灵节) , and from the opposite direction, he can hear the faint sounds of music.</p>
<p>He leans toward it. The music calls him.</p>
<p>He feels torn between his devotion to family and his desire for music.</p>
<p>There has to be a way to get the best of both worlds.</p>
<p>What if he . . . yes!</p>
<p>He pats the flyer in his pocket, making sure it’s still there.</p>
<p>He will enter the contest, but he’ll keep it a secret.</p>
<p>That way, he can be a musician and keep his family happy.</p>
<p>As soon as they get to the family compound, Abuelita (外祖母) marches them to the shoemaking shop.</p>
<p>Everyone is busy at work, including his teenaged primo (堂兄) , Abel, who’s guiding shoes through an automated polisher.</p>
<p>Miguel knows the drill.</p>
<p>He sets down his supplies, plops on a stool, and braces himself for more lecturing.</p>
<p>Abuelita grabs two wooden shoe stretchers, using them as clappers to get everyone’s attention.</p>
<p>“I found your son in Mariachi Plaza!” she tells Miguel’s parents.</p>
<p>“Miguel . . .” Papá says, disappointed, and Mamá says, “You know how Abuelita feels about the plaza.”</p>
<p>“I was just shining shoes!”</p>
<p>“A musician’s shoes!” Tío (叔叔) Berto reveals.</p>
<p>Everyone gasps, including Abel, causing his shoe to zip away from the polisher and fly up to the roof.</p>
<p>A few seconds later, it falls and bops him on the head.</p>
<p>“But the plaza’s where all the foot traffic is,” Miguel explains.</p>
<p>“If Abuelita says no more plaza,” Papá says, “then no more plaza.”</p>
<p>“But what about tonight?” Miguel asks.</p>
<p>“What’s tonight?” Papá Franco wants to know.</p>
<p>Miguel hesitates before speaking, but he can’t help spilling his secret.</p>
<p>“It’s Día de los Muertos (亡灵节) .</p>
<p>The whole town’s gonna be there and . . . well . . . they’re having this talent show.”</p>
<p>Abuelita (外祖母) narrows her eyes and crosses her arms.</p>
<p>“Talent show?”</p>
<p>Miguel gulps and squirms in his seat.</p>
<p>“And I thought I might . . .”</p>
<p>“Sign up?” Mamá guesses.</p>
<p>“Well, maybe?”</p>
<p>Prima (堂妹) Rosa laughs.</p>
<p>“You have to have talent to be in a talent show.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Abel adds.</p>
<p>“What are you going to do, shine shoes?”</p>
<p>Miguel hates it when his primos (堂兄们) tease him.</p>
<p>Why can’t they take his side once in a while?</p>
<p>“I do have a talent,” Miguel insists, “but . . . it’s . . .”</p>
<p>He spots the quizzical expressions on his parents’ faces.</p>
<p>“Well, it’s . . . it’s a surprise.”</p>
<p>“Absolutely not!” Abuelita says.</p>
<p>“It’s Día de los Muertos, and no one’s going anywhere.</p>
<p>Tonight is about family.”</p>
<p>She grabs the marigolds that Miguel set down and the ones Rosa had carried, and she gives them to him.</p>
<p>There are so many petals that Miguel nearly inhales a few and has to spit them out.</p>
<p>“Ofrenda (灵坛) room,” Abuelita orders. “¡Vámonos! (我们走吧) ”</p>
<p>Miguel follows Abuelita to the ofrenda (灵坛) room, and when they enter, they see that Mamá Coco is already there.</p>
<p>Miguel smiles at her, but before he can say hello, Abuelita orders him to hold the flowers while she arranges them on the altar.</p>
<h2 id="Chapter8"><a href="#Chapter8" class="headerlink" title="Chapter8"></a>Chapter8</h2><p>Every year, Abuelita (grandmother) stresses this important tradition.</p>
<p>Only the spirits with pictures on an ofrenda (offering) can enjoy the offerings left in the home and at the gravesites.</p>
<p>The pictures are like boarding passes, and without them, the spirits remain stuck on the other side.</p>
<p>While she’s preoccupied with the flowers, Miguel takes a few steps toward the door.</p>
<p>He needs to practice.</p>
<p>The talent show is only a few hours away.</p>
<p>“All this work to bring the family together,” Abuelita says, “so I don’t want you sneaking off to who-knows-where.”</p>
<p>She reaches for a flower, but Miguel’s not there.</p>
<p>He’s halfway to the door.</p>
<p>“Where are you going?” she demands.</p>
<p>“I thought we were done.”</p>
<p>“Ay, Dios mío (my god),” she sighs, exasperated.</p>
<p>“Being part of this family means being here for this family.</p>
<p>“I don’t want to see you end up like—”</p>
<p>She glances at the photo of young Mamá Coco, her mother, Imelda, and the faceless musician.</p>
<p>“Like Mamá Coco’s papá?”</p>
<p>“Never mention that man!” Abuelita says.</p>
<p>“He’s better off forgotten.”</p>
<p>“But you’re the one who—”</p>
<p>“Ta, ta, ta-tch!” Abuelita will not let him speak.</p>
<p>Miguel’s about to push the issue, but then they hear Mamá Coco’s gravelly voice.</p>
<p>“Papá? Papá is home?”</p>
<p>Abuelita rushes to her. “Mamá, cálmese, cálmese (calm down).”</p>
<p>“Papá is coming home?” Mamá Coco asks again.</p>
<p>“No, Mamá. But it’s okay. I’m here.”</p>
<p>With Abuelita preoccupied, Miguel sneaks away.</p>
<p>He doesn’t hear Mamá Coco ask his abuelita, “Who are you?”</p>
<p>He doesn’t see the sadness on his grandmother’s face as she tells Mamá Coco to rest while she gently pats the old lady’s hands.</p>
<p>He doesn’t hear Abuelita try to tell him, “I’m hard on you because I care,” and he also fails to hear her sigh when she realizes that he’s gone.</p>
<p>Miguel can only shake his head as he passes Tío (uncle) Berto and his papá unloading rolls of leather from a truck.</p>
<p>The sun is bright, so he must squint as he makes his way through the family compound.</p>
<p>When he reaches a giant cypress tree, he looks around to make sure no one’s watching.</p>
<p>Then he climbs the tree onto the roof, carefully scuttles across the tiles, lifts a sign advertising the family business, and slips into the space behind it.</p>
<p>This is Miguel’s secret attic hideout, the one place where he can get away from his family’s expectations and just be himself.</p>
<p>In a corner are several pairs of shoes that someone discarded years ago.</p>
<p>Miguel ignores them and focuses on an ofrenda (offering) he built to honor the memory of Ernesto de la Cruz.</p>
<p>He lights a few candles to illuminate the posters, songbooks, and albums that he has carefully arranged.</p>
<p>But the candles reveal something else, too — a guitar!</p>
<p>It’s not as fancy as the guitar that de la Cruz holds on his album covers or even as fancy as the guitar he held earlier in the plaza,</p>
<p>but it’s just as special, because Miguel has crafted this instrument himself.</p>
<p>He cobbled it from scraps he found in Mariachi Plaza and around the shoemaking shop—a beat-up soundboard, old strings, a bridge made from a comb, and tuning pegs made from bent nails.</p>
<p>The instrument is held together with duct tape, leather scraps, and lots of love.</p>
<p>Studying one of Ernesto de la Cruz’s album covers, Miguel takes a marker and traces the one-of-a kind skull designs from the famous musician’s guitar.</p>
<p>Miguel’s version is slightly off-center and a bit crude, but he decides it’s good enough.</p>
<p>He’s about to tune the guitar when he hears footsteps pattering on the roof and the sign moving.</p>
<p>Someone has discovered his hideout in the attic!</p>
<p>Miguel gasps, but before he can blow out the candles, Dante peeks in.</p>
<p>“Oh, it’s you,” Miguel says, relieved.</p>
<p>“Get in here. C’mon, Dante. Hurry up.”</p>
<p>The dog wriggles in and sniffs the entire periphery of the room, spending an unusually long time on the shoes in the corner.</p>
<p>Then he plops in front of Miguel, an attentive audience.</p>
<p>“I just . . . I just wish I could get someone to listen,” Miguel says as he tunes the guitar.</p>
<p>“Other than you,” he tells Dante, who replies by sloppily licking Miguel’s face.</p>
<p>pic<br>Miguel gives a grossed-out chuckle and turns his attention back to the guitar, strumming a chord that vibrates off the walls.</p>
<p>“¡Perfecto! (perfect)” He studies the album cover.</p>
<p>Ernesto de la Cruz poses confidently with his beaming white smile, and Miguel imitates him.</p>
<p>He’s a little awkward, but pretending to be de la Cruz for a moment makes him feel better.</p>
<p>Then he picks up a videotape with Best of de la Cruz scrawled on the label.</p>
<p>He turns on an old TV set and pushes the tape into a VCR.</p>
<p>Like the guitar, Miguel made the tape himself, a montage of his favorite scenes from de la Cruz’s movies and interviews.</p>
<p>The first scenes come from a movie called A quien yo amo (Whom I love).</p>
<p>Miguel strums to provide some musical accompaniment as de la Cruz imparts his wisdom.</p>
<p>“I have to sing,” de la Cruz says.</p>
<p>“I have to play.</p>
<p>The music, it’s not just in me. It is me.”</p>
<p>Miguel nods. This is exactly how he feels, too.</p>
<h2 id="Chapter9"><a href="#Chapter9" class="headerlink" title="Chapter9"></a>Chapter9</h2><p>“When life gets me down,” de la Cruz continues, “I play my guitar.</p>
<p>The rest of the world may follow the rules, but I must follow my heart!”</p>
<p>De la Cruz passionately kisses a woman, and Miguel cringes.</p>
<p>Then there’s another clip from the film. In this one de la Cruz holds a guitar.</p>
<p>“You know that feeling?</p>
<p>“Like there’s a song in the air and it’s playing just for you?”</p>
<p>Ernesto de la Cruz pauses and begins to strum the guitar.</p>
<p>Miguel mimics the hand positions so he can follow along as his idol begins to sing about never knowing he could want something so much.</p>
<p>After a few verses, the song ends, and the videotape switches to another movie called Nuestra iglesia (Our Church).</p>
<p>In this scene, de la Cruz plays a good-natured priest speaking to a nun.</p>
<p>“You must have faith, Sister!”</p>
<p>“Oh, but Padre, he will never listen.”</p>
<p>“He will listen to music!”</p>
<p>Now de la Cruz bursts into song.</p>
<p>He sings about music, how it has the power to change minds and hearts.</p>
<p>He goes on, and since Miguel knows all the words, he follows along.</p>
<p>When the song ends, de la Cruz tells the nun, “Never underestimate the power of music.”</p>
<p>The tape switches again, this time to a romantic scene with de la Cruz professing his love to a woman named Lola.</p>
<p>She says, “But my father, he will never give his permission.”</p>
<p>And de la Cruz replies, “I am done asking permission.</p>
<p>“When you see your moment, you mustn’t let it pass you by.</p>
<p>“You must seize it!”</p>
<p>Immediately after these famous lines is a clip of an interview.</p>
<p>“Señor (sir) de la Cruz, what did it take for you to seize your moment?”</p>
<p>De la Cruz does not hesitate to answer.</p>
<p>“I had to have faith in my dream.</p>
<p>“No one was going to hand it to me.</p>
<p>“It was up to me to reach for that dream, grab it tight, and make it come true.”</p>
<p>“And make it come true,” Miguel repeats.</p>
<p>The tape ends, but Miguel can still hear the words repeating in his mind.</p>
<p>If he wants to be a musician, he’ll have to make it happen.</p>
<p>When he sees an opportunity, he must seize it, just like Ernesto de la Cruz.</p>
<p>He reaches into his pocket to pull out the talent show flyer.</p>
<p>“No more hiding, Dante.</p>
<p>“I gotta seize my moment!”</p>
<p>Dante wags his tail and pants happily.</p>
<p>“I’m going to play in Mariachi Plaza if it kills me!”</p>
<p>Miguel grabs his guitar and, for inspiration, his favorite album.</p>
<p>Then he and Dante scurry out across the roof and peek over the edge.</p>
<p>They must be stealthy in order to sneak away.</p>
<p>Luckily, the setting sun casts long shadows, making it easier to hide—</p>
<p>but then the courtyard fills up with people as Abuelita opens all the doors and announces, “Día de los Muertos (The Day of The Dead) has begun!”</p>
<p>Miguel hides on the roof as children run by with sparklers.</p>
<p>Then he spots his twin primos (cousins), toddlers Manny and Benny, carrying baskets of marigold petals and haphazardly scattering them on the ground.</p>
<p>“No, no, no, no, no,” Mamá corrects them.</p>
<p>“We have to make a clear path.”</p>
<p>She demonstrates, creating a path from the ofrenda room to the front gate.</p>
<p>“These petals guide our ancestors home.</p>
<p>“We don’t want them to get lost.</p>
<p>“We want them to come and enjoy all the food and drinks on the ofrenda, ¿sí? (yes)”</p>
<p>The toddlers nod, their eyes full of wonder and anticipation.</p>
<p>They follow Mamá.</p>
<p>Miguel and Dante take the opportunity to drop from the roof, just outside the compound, but the coast isn’t clear, because Papá and Tío (uncle) Berto round the corner carrying a small table from storage.</p>
<p>“Where should we put this table?” Papá calls out.</p>
<p>Miguel and Dante back up toward the courtyard to avoid the adults, only to find Abuelita shaking out a rug.</p>
<p>She’s turning toward them!</p>
<p>Luckily, Miguel and Dante jump into the ofrenda room before she sees them.</p>
<p>“In the courtyard, m’ijos (kids),” Abuelita answers.</p>
<p>She is out of sight but her voice is clear.</p>
<p>“You want it down by the kitchen?”</p>
<p>“Sí (yes). Eh . . . next to the other one.”</p>
<p>Inside the ofrenda room, they find Mamá Coco, and Miguel puts his finger to his lips so she will keep his presence a secret.</p>
<p>But it’s too late. He hears Abuelita’s voice—right outside the door!</p>
<p>“Miguel!”“Hurry! Under the table,” Miguel tells Dante as he stuffs his guitar and album beneath the tablecloth.</p>
<p>“Get under! Get under!”</p>
<p>“Miguel!” Abuelita calls again.</p>
<p>“Nothing!” he says, panicked.</p>
<p>He whips around.</p>
<p>Abuelita and his parents are looking at him.</p>
<p>His heart is racing and his palms are sweaty from the stress of almost getting caught.</p>
<p>He wants to pretend like nothing unusual is going on, but he can’t help stammering. “Mamá . . . Papá . . . I . . .”</p>
<p>Papá lifts a finger to silence him.</p>
<p>“Miguel.” He takes a deep breath.</p>
<p>“Your abuelita had the most wonderful idea!”</p>
<p>He giggles with excitement.</p>
<p>“We’ve all decided—it’s time you joined us in the workshop!”</p>
<p>“What?!” Miguel says.</p>
<h2 id="Chapter10"><a href="#Chapter10" class="headerlink" title="Chapter10"></a>Chapter10</h2><p>He’s heard rumors about people seeing their lives pass before them when they have near-death experiences, and that’s what happens to him.</p>
<p>Miguel hears the announcement and immediately sees his visits to Mariachi Plaza, bands performing in the gazebo, his secret hideout where he plays guitar and watches film clips, Mamá Coco’s room where he quietly hums.</p>
<p>If he starts making shoes, he won’t have time to do anything related to music.</p>
<p>It breaks his heart to realize this.</p>
<p>But how can he tell his family?</p>
<p>He loves them and doesn’t want to disappoint them, especially when their faces are beaming with pride because becoming an apprentice is a big step.</p>
<p>I think I’m cursed, Miguel decides, because of something that happened before I was even born.</p>
<p>Papá holds out an apron and drapes it over Miguel.</p>
<p>The apron is made of leather, but for Miguel, it’s heavier than the steel armor that the conquistadors wore.</p>
<p>He feels trapped by it and by all the expectations it represents.</p>
<p>“No more shining shoes.</p>
<p>“You’ll be making them!” Papá says proudly.</p>
<p>“Every day after school.”</p>
<p>“No more going into town?” Miguel’s voice cracks, but no one seems to notice.</p>
<p>They just stand there, still beaming with pride.</p>
<p>Abuelita grabs Miguel’s cheeks and squeezes them affectionately.</p>
<p>“Ooh! Our Miguelito’s (Miguel) carrying on the family tradition.</p>
<p>“And on Día de los Muertos (The Day of The Dead)!</p>
<p>“Your ancestors will be so proud!”</p>
<p>She gestures to the shoes adorning the ofrenda.</p>
<p>“You’ll craft huaraches just like your tía (aunt) Victoria.”</p>
<p>“And wingtips,” Papá adds, “like your papá Julio.”</p>
<p>Miguel backs away from the ofrenda.</p>
<p>He desperately wants to escape.</p>
<p>“But what if I’m no good at making shoes?”</p>
<p>He won’t say his next thought out loud, but the truth is he doesn’t even like the idea of making shoes.</p>
<p>“Aw, Miguel,” Papá says. “You have your family here to guide you.”</p>
<p>He waves his arm as if presenting the family.</p>
<p>“You are a Rivera, and a Rivera is . . .”</p>
<p>“A shoemaker,” Miguel finishes, his voice defeated.</p>
<p>“A shoemaker through and through.”</p>
<p>Everyone turns to admire the photos on the altar.</p>
<p>Miguel peeks over their shoulders to see even more generations of his family, and he starts to feel claustrophobic in the tiny room crowded with Papá, Mamá, Abuelita, Mamá Coco, and too many ancestors to count.</p>
<p>“That’s my boy! Ha-ha!” Papá says.</p>
<p>Then he calls out, “Berto, break out the good stuff.</p>
<p>“I wanna make a toast!”</p>
<p>As Papá heads out of the room, Mamá gives Miguel a soft smile.</p>
<p>He smiles back, trying his best to fake happiness.</p>
<p>Satisfied, she follows Papá out the door.</p>
<p>Last is Abuelita, who smothers Miguel with tons of kisses before exiting.</p>
<p>With the family gone, Miguel turns back to the ofrenda and discovers Dante on the table, chomping at the pan dulces they left for their ancestors.</p>
<p>The bald dog has never looked more content, but Miguel is horrified.</p>
<p>“No, Dante! Stop!”</p>
<p>Miguel grabs the dog and pulls him away from the ofrenda, but all that movement shakes the table.</p>
<p>pic<br>The frame with Mamá Imelda’s photo sways back and forth, and before Miguel can stop it, the picture topples to the ground with a sickening crack.</p>
<p>The frame has broken, and Miguel must shake away the fragments as he lifts the picture.</p>
<p>He knows Dante didn’t mean it, but he feels like everyone is working against him.</p>
<p>The last thing he needs is to get in trouble for breaking a picture.</p>
<p>“No, no, no, no, no!” Miguel cries.</p>
<p>He holds the old photo of Mamá Imelda with a young Coco and the mysterious headless musician.</p>
<p>Suddenly, he notices that a section of the picture has been folded and hidden by the frame all these years.</p>
<p>Miguel desperately wants to unfold it, but he hesitates because he feels like he’s prying.</p>
<p>The hidden section is like a locked door or a gate with a NO TRESPASSING sign, but he can’t help it.</p>
<p>He has to look!</p>
<p>When he unfolds the picture, he gasps.</p>
<p>Next to the mysterious musician is a guitar—not just any guitar—but the guitar—the one with a skull carved into its head!</p>
<p>Miguel is beside himself.</p>
<p>“De la Cruz’s guitar?”</p>
<p>Then Mamá Coco speaks.</p>
<p>“Papá?” she says, pointing at the picture. “Papá?”</p>
<p>Miguel’s eyes widen as the connection dawns on him.</p>
<p>Could it possibly be true?</p>
<p>But of course, Miguel thinks.</p>
<p>I have always felt a great connection to this musician.</p>
<p>His father was right when he told Miguel to look to the family for guidance.</p>
<p>The answer was there all along!</p>
<h2 id="Chapter11"><a href="#Chapter11" class="headerlink" title="Chapter11"></a>Chapter11</h2><h2 id="Chapter12"><a href="#Chapter12" class="headerlink" title="Chapter12"></a>Chapter12</h2><h2 id="Chapter13"><a href="#Chapter13" class="headerlink" title="Chapter13"></a>Chapter13</h2>
      
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  <p><span>本文标题:</span><a href="/寻梦环游记/">寻梦环游记</a></p>
  <p><span>文章作者:</span></a>Chao</p>
  <p><span>发布时间:</span>2018年11月22日 - 20:11</p>
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